Gently shook his head with the slightly admonishing air that superintendents took so hardly.
‘We don’t know he was here — we don’t know that he was seen here. All we know is that the gun which killed Lammas killed Annie Packer… and we don’t know that either unless we’ve recovered the bullet.’
And he skilfully popped the peppermint cream into his mouth.
‘All right!’ breathed the super chokingly. ‘All right, Gently. Let’s play it your way for half a minute. If it wasn’t Hicks who shot Annie Packer, perhaps you can tell me who in high heaven else would want to do it?’
Gently nodded his approval. ‘That’s what one should ask one’s self
… though unfortunately the choice is rather wide. But I can suggest a motive, if you feel it might be interesting.’
‘I do, Gently… it just happens that I do!’
‘Well… it might occur to a clever sort of criminal that we weren’t taking as much interest in Hicks as we might be and that a carefully prepared episode of this sort would remedy the situation. The likelihood would be all the stronger if Hicks was only the fall-guy in the first instance… wouldn’t it? And it wouldn’t hurt him any if he was already making well-paid tracks for South America…’
The super stared at him evilly, but he was too good a policeman to brush an idea aside.
‘You mean this rumour about Hicks being seen was a put-up job?’
‘That’s how it struck me… after I had investigated it.’
‘In fact Hicks never was anything but a red herring — the door is still wide open?’
‘Pretty wide open. Though it may have closed a little lately.’
The super brooded for a spell. ‘It’s narrow enough, if you ask me. If Hicks was just a blind then there’s only two people in it — Mrs Lammas and her son Paul. Nobody else would get Hicks to play. I suppose you can add the Brent woman — he might have been infatuated with her. But it’s pointing all the way to Paul and Mrs Lammas.’
‘And maybe one other.’
The super glanced at him keenly.
‘I keep getting the impression that we haven’t got a full list yet …’
‘Any reason for that?’
‘Not really… just a place in the picture for him.’
‘It’s a “him” then and not a “her”?’
‘Oh yes! I think it has to be a “him”.’
The super brooded some more with a terrier-like glint in his eye. Then he said nastily:
‘There’s just one little flaw in this precious theory of yours, isn’t there?’
‘There may be several…’
‘Yes — and the first one is how an outsider could spread a rumour about Hicks in a little closed community like this — without being identified! Did that cross the Central Office mind?’
‘I admit… it rather puzzled me.’
‘Ah! It rather puzzled you! Well, it isn’t going to puzzle me, Gently. There’s been too much puzzling in this case already. Now we’re going to have some action — a lot of action! Hansom, get back in that car. We’ll leave the chief inspector to do his puzzling while we tackle this thing like common, everyday policemen!’
There was a relaxed murmur amongst the river-dwellers as the super’s Humber departed, as though the great man’s presence had burdened their independent spirits. Gently, of course, was another matter… apart from being a resident he had a chameleon-like quality of blending with his environment. They crowded round him as though he were their personal representative with the latest news.
‘What are they goin’ to do, mister?’
‘Why did Joe Hicks do for our Annie…?’
‘They aren’t goin’ to make trouble, are th’?’
‘Yew don’t think that wa’nt none of us!’
Gently gazed at the nondescript group with a humorous wonderment.
‘You — lot — of — baboons!’ he exclaimed at last. ‘Don’t you realize you’ve brought this on yourselves? If you could have told me last night who spread that rumour about Hicks, Annie Packer would be with us now — and Dutt and myself the only coppers for miles! Why do you have to be so infernally dumb?’
They shuffled a bit and looked rather abashed. Ted Thatcher eased back his greasy cap and scratched beneath it.
‘Now hold yew a minute, bor!’
‘Yew can’t remember evra mortal thing!’
‘An we reckon we know now ennaway…’
‘What was that?’
Gently turned to the last speaker, who chanced to be the slattern. She met his eye defensively.
‘Well… don’t it seem obvious? We’re been talkin’ it over b’tween us.’
‘Tha’s right,’ put in Thatcher, ‘I know she told me.’
‘Who told you?’
‘W’poor ole Anna.’
Intelligence dawned in Gently’s eyes.
‘Let’s get this straight! Is this something you’ll swear in the witness-box, or is it something you’ve dreamed up because Annie doesn’t live here any more…?’
They murmured indefinitely. Thatcher was the only one who stood his ground. Annie had told him and he had questioned the slattern’s son about it… whereupon the slattern thought she might’ve heard it from the kids after all.
Gently sighed and shook his head.
‘But there weren’t any strangers around yesterday afternoon — people who don’t usually come here…?’
He went over to Annie’s wherry. Four frightened little faces stared up at him out of the hatch.
‘Who’s looking after the kids?’
The slattern, it appeared, was seeing they were fed and was keeping an eye on them.
Inside the low, wide cabin it was close and redolent with boat-smell, paraffin, blankets and a subtle tincture of Deep River. On one of the berths lay the slim form of Pedro the Fisherman. His pale face was half-turned into a cushion and there were silent tears running down it. Gently touched him on the shoulder. He moaned and sat up dazedly.
‘You — you slept here last night?’
The Italian’s haunted eyes looked vacant, but he nodded as though he understood.
‘With Mrs Packer — with Annie?’
Now he shook his head. ‘In da… da forra-peak.’
‘Tell me what happened.’
Tears welled up again as Pedro tried to find words.
‘We finish da music… go to bed. Sometime I don’t sleep… hear her get up, go ’way. I hear. Da sound… lika da bird, pzzzzzt! Nodding else… nodding at all… I go to sleep.’
‘When was this, Pedro?’
‘When… I dunno. One hour, two hour.’
‘But there must have been a splash! Didn’t you hear that?’
Pedro shook his head stupidly, then his face twisted and collapsed, and he sank back sobbing on the bunk.
Gently took a quick look round the cabin and went back on deck.
‘Who was it found her?’
He was a sad-looking man answering to the name of Dido Plum. He had just been setting out in his dinghy for the village. As he was passing Annie’s wherry he had seen something white down amongst the weeds. He had prodded it with his oar…
‘Show me where it was.’
Dido led him up to the bows of the wherry and pointed to a spot slightly ahead of them. If you had toppled off the bows you might have fallen right there… with a splash. And with a bullet through the head you ought to have left a little blood somewhere…
